Wail! wail! and smite your lyres’ sonorous gold,
And beckon naked beauty; luring me
With arms and breasts and hips of godly mold,
Dark, wind-wild locks seen through the surf-blown sea!
Vain all your magic! dull in unclosed ears!
Beside one voice sweet-calling o’er the foam,
That, in my heart, like some strong hand appears
To gently, firmly draw my vessel home.
WHY?
Why are the bright stars brighter after rain?
Why is strong love the stronger after pain?
Reply, reply!
Why sings the wild swan heavenliest when it dies?
Why is fair love the fairest when it flies?
Oh why! Oh why!
Why are sweet kisses sweetest when they’re dead?
Why is love loveliest when ’tis buriéd?
Reply, reply!
NOCTURNE
A disc of violet blue,
Rimmed with a thorn of fire,
The new moon hangs in a sky of dew;
And under the vines, where the sunset’s hue
Is blent with blooms, first one, then two,
Begins the crickets’ choir.